


calendar boy

by lochTenderness (theseourbodies)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness
Summary: Konoha and Komi talk Bokuto through a photo shoot for charity.Written for Bokuto Week 2020 Day 1:Hair Down/Sweaty Workout/Firefighter!AU
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Fukuroudani Volleyball Club, Bokuto Koutarou & Komi Haruki, Bokuto Koutarou & Konoha Akinori
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22
Collections: Bokuto Week 2020





	calendar boy

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday week to the boooiii

Koutarou hesitantly curls the weights in his hands up to his pectorals, testing the pose. The rowing motion is easy, familiar; the weights aren’t even that heavy. Still something about this feels weird; maybe it’s the lights or the camera, or—he shifts and grins ruefully at the unfamiliar feeling of fabric drawn tight against his butt. These shorts are older than Washio’s oldest son, and  Koutarou’s still not sure how Konoha managed to magic them out of the back of  Koutarou’s closet. Everything else he’s wearing is normal, it’s just these shorts are—he glances into the floor to ceiling mirror to his left, flicking his fringe out of the way—a lot tighter than the ones he normally wears. The usual slip of skin between his compression sleeves and the hem of his shorts is a little more like a full cake slice than a sliver.

He lets his arms relax. “I mean yeah, no problem, but is this really what you want me to do?” 

Konoha’s got a gleam in his eye and a grin that Koutarou... doesn’t exactly trust from his position behind their borrowed cameraman. He’s dressed perfectly normally—the blue department tee he’s wearing is just like Koutarou’s but with the sleeves and collar intact. 

“Trust me, Bokuto, this is exactly what I want you to do.” 

Koutarou idly lets the dumbbell hanging at his side tap against his thigh and tries not to pout. Maybe it was dumb, but he had kind of expected a calendar featuring members of the fire department to, well, have more to do with firefighting. 

“How is it that you asking someone to trust you makes you sound so  skeezy ? Jeez— Bokuto , listen, you don’t have to trust Konoha, but you trust  _ us,  _ don’t you?” Komi must have snuck into the room just in time to hear Konoha finish talking. He’s been relieved of his calf-length speedo and bundled up in his sweatsuit after his own session having his picture taken in the Rec center’s outdoor lap pool. At least that kind of made sense,  Koutarou thinks, biting his lip. Water’s something they  actually used on the daily to do their jobs. 

“Can’t I just do the same thing that Washio did on the ladder? And could I at least style my hair?” 

“Absolutely  _ not _ . Captain, come on—do you really want to lose to Ojiro? His station’s doing the exact same thing, I promise you, and as much as he has to say about those damn twins, their communities are going to eat that shit up. And you should have seen what that pin-head from Ushijima’s station posted on  facebook \--”

“Aw, that’s fine though. It’s good for Aran, and--”

“Bokuto,” Komi interrupts him sternly, and oh shit, now he’s the one who’s got a Look. “It’s not just us—this is something Akaashi specifically suggested. He really thinks it’s going to work.” 

_Shit_.  Koutarou’s ... not exactly immune to a junior like  Akaashi , not even on his worst days. If the station’s picky, precise arson investigator thinks it’s a good idea for  Koutarou to do this, well. Who is  Koutarou to say no?

“...Fine,” he mutters. “Fine! But don’t think that’s going to work again, Komi!”

Komi just laughs. “’Course not, ‘course not, now let  Ennoshita do his job, ok? We’ve only got him until Sawamura realizes that we’ve seduced his resident hobby photographer away from him.”

Ennoshita rolls his eyes—”Seduced is a little strong, sir.”—but he looks at Koutarou with the same calm smile that  Koutarou remembers from fire rescue competitions against Miyagi. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Captain.”

“We’re counting on you, Captain!”

“Yeah,  Bokuto , let’s show ‘em!”

There’s a balloon in  Koutarou’s chest that keeps puffing up and up until finally he can’t help himself. “Fine, fine! Let your old Captain show you how it’s done!”

The actual shoot is a flurry of instructions that should be overwhelming, but  Koutarou’s got the taste of a competition between his teeth and so nothing on earth can phase him right now—not even the series of squats that  Ennoshita asks him to do that cause the hem of his shorts to ride up even farther. Besides, the poses are all part of a familiar routine—his body likes it, and he does too. It’s something soothing in the face of unfamiliar flashes of light and  Ennoshita’s voice telling him things like “Lift your shirt higher please, Captain.” and “Could you squeeze your shoulders in just a little—perfect.”

\---

A month later, the glossy photos show up in a big envelope that Konoha produces with a flourish during one of the many dinners that Yukie’s been gleefully inviting them to— Koutarou thinks this has something to do with the fact that  Sarukui pays for her meal, every time, but he doesn’t want to get into it; Saru should know better than to bet against Yukie about anything. None of them are really small, especially not Koutarou and Washio, but they all manage to huddle around one side of the table as Konoha carefully pops the seal and scatters the prints out before them with triumph. 

His firefighters (and one chilly arson investigator) stare out at him from the photos, but they’re a little like strangers. He likes them all, loves them like his own family, but there’s something about  Ennoshita’s picture taking that makes them all look kind of--

“Wow,” Saru whispers, “wow, we look  _ hot.” _

_ Yeah,  _ Koutarou thinks, a little dazed,  _ we do _ . In one picture, Washio hangs by one hand off a partially extended ladder, his sharp face sculpted like a magazine model’s. In another, Komi rests on his elbows half out of the pool water. He’s leaning his head back to  look into the camera upside down. It’s his same easy grin, but it looks different in the photos. In her close-up, Yukie’s eye’s glow out at him from the shadow of her helmet; in the shot next to her, Konoha’s caught mid snap of his suspenders over a bare chest.  Akaashi pouts, Onaga grins, even the Chief has a more sedate picture, but— Koutarou frowns and scans the photos again. Did  Ennoshita forget to send his? Did something happen to the camera or something, because he doesn’t see—.

A pale hand reaches around him to tug at the corner of one of the middle pictures. It’s in soft black and white and  Koutarou freezes when he really looks at it because  _ that’s him _ . That’s him in that picture, face tilted a little down, eyes half closed and focused on the weight in his hand. The lights he remembers as hot and yellow catch all his angles and pool on the muscle of his bicep—Koutarou flexes a little and stares down at the muscle he can see in full color now. Does he really look like that? 

“Oh, nice one Ace!” Komi hoots, delighted. “I told you it would be good but look at this! Man, Akaashi, how did you even know?” 

“Photography is my passion,” Akaashi’s dirt-dry voice says over  Koutarou’s shoulder, and  Koutarou looks over to beam at him. 

“ Akaashi this is great!” 

“It’s not me in the picture, Captain. You were the one doing all the work.” 

Koutarou doesn’t know what to say to that besides to smile; since that’s all it takes to have  Akaashi smile back, he counts it as a definite win. 

Konoha’s fox eyes are bright and huge as he laughs like it’s bursting to come out of him. “Take that  Tendou ! Take that, stupid Miyas!! Bokuto, you magnificent bastard, forget my birthday, forget Christmas; this is the greatest present you’ve ever given me, ever!”

The tight knot they've formed around the photos collapses in the wake of Konoha's glee and they settle back around the table, checking out each other's photos between bouts of laughter and rounds of drinks. As the night goes on, Koutarou can't stop grinning to himself and laughing, laughing, laughing; when he wanders back home with one arm thrown around Washio's shoulders, the finds he carries the warmth of their happiness on with him for the rest of the night and the week after. 

When it's finally printed, a copy of the calendar goes up in their locker room and Yukie's; when September rolls around, they have to get a new, boring calendar-- none of them seem willing to flip past the picture of their captain, caught all pretty in light and shadow. 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the tweeter: @theseourbodies


End file.
